No Sugar Added® Poetry Contest Winners--Week 3

Week THREE of the No Sugar Added® Poetry contest closed last Thursday, and we have 3 final prize winners to announce! Check out the great work below, and congratulations to our final round of winners for 2012!!

Diabetic Dreamsby JohnI awoke from an odd dream last night-In a barren room sat upright a baby girl, crying.She cried and cried and cried.And then she drew up in her pudgy hand a stick,And with a prick drew bloodAnd placed it onto an electronic tongue.

I wasn’t worried;I knew what this was about.

72. She bawled,Removed the strip,Tested again.

Click! Prick! Slurp!

72. And so she bawled,Removed the strip,And tested again.

Click! Prick! Slurp!

72. She wailed.“She won’t accept it,Wishes for it to change”I thought. Suddenly a maternal face appeared,Loomed over her, extending arms.Then I awoke.

Dilute. Fuzzy. A bit like someone had walloped me a good one.Damn. My turn.

So I sigh, and think thatI’ve gotto work on setting better temporary basils.

I dream funny dreams. Sometime I am eating in a kitchenAnd I can’t stop. I’m full and my stomach aches. But I keep eating.And eating.And eating.My mouth needs the food, vacuums it in, unstoppable, devouring,Helpless.

Sometimes I awake and make the most disgusting culinary creations.I remember once it was supposed to beAn ice-cream-chocolate-brownie sundae,With the chocolate and brownies to be warmed and placed on top-But I was confused and microwaved the ice-cream too.Sludge! Horrible, glorious sludge! But IStill, willingly, greedily engorged the slime in my salivating maw.

Sometimes when I dream it’s just me and my bloodstained tester.I know what that means- I’m either high or low, no question about it.I wish it was just a nightmareBut it unfairly sneaks into the waking moments of my world.And after a bad night;A 3AM pump fail, 450 floating nauseatingly above the world,More sugar in my blood than in my four family members combined;An uncontrolled low followed by the unrestrained response,Just waiting for the rebound and sickening consequence;I look at my haggard self in the mirror and say:All it takes is a few touches:

A funny way to die.What could have saved, killed.A hundred years ago, I’d have been dead anyway.

But I glare at myself and look into my tired eyes and smileAnd go back to sleepAnd hope tomorrow will be better.

Ravageby LorraineNormal blood sugars are seventy to one-forty.His reach forty and four hundred.His average is “acceptable” and we celebrate.But the reality is, his body is strained.His nervous system, vision and heart are always challenged.Seizure, coma and even death are real risks every single day.

He is a human pincushion.Forced to bleed ten or more times daily.He wears his pancreas on the outside.He must tell it what to do all day long. Even when he sleeps.He must visit the school nurse throughout the day to deliver insulin and check his sugar levels.He must leave class when he doesn’t feel right.He must measure every single thing he eats.

With all this effort, it still ravages.

He is low.He feels “out of it” and “wobbly”.I feel guilt and like a failure.He is high.He feels “woozy” and “foggy”.I feel irritable and anxious. I failed again.

We wait.For the sugar to work.For the insulin to work.Every day. Throughout the day.We wait.

It ravages us both.

His eyes, his kidneys, his legs, his heart.Night after night, I check his blood sugar while he sleeps.I worry.I wake with a number in my head - his last blood sugar.Midnight. Three AM. Six AM.It never leaves me.It takes my spirit.It makes me age.

He gets on the bus.I worry.It’s time to check his blood sugar with the school nurse.I worry, with the phone in my hand.It’s snack time.I worry.It’s time to get back on the bus.Still worried. Still have the phone.

The worry ravages.

We put on smiles. Brave faces.No use dwelling on the negative.There is much to be thankful for.He eats birthday cake; celebrates Halloween.He is smart.He is growing.He is happy.He is kind.He is strong.

The Big Dby Jerry NairnOnce a certain deathDiabetes is nowsomething a person can live with.

Once a certain deathof a boy I read aboutreminded meDiabetes isn't something a person can ignoreand live with.

Once a certain deathstanding in the darkness by the bedas I came sweating and trembling to awarenessreminded me my deathis something I live with.

Blue Candlelightby George SimmonsI light a blue candle as I shed a tear,The sorrow I feel surrounded by fear.Why did this happen? Why once againmust I light a blue candle to signify end?So many promises of hope and a cure,So hard to see clearly what a candle can obscure.Where is the hope I had the day before last?When the blue candle is lit, hope is something in the past.I see the blue candles and cry even more,For parents, for friends, for all who adore.I cry for those who are next on the list,I wonder if I’ll be the one missed.When the family is together it feels so safe,Like nothing dark and evil can enter this place,In flesh or in spirit our souls stand their ground.‘til I see those candles. And my world breaks down.I light a blue candle as I send up a prayer,My heart aches, my eyes sting, I cry, “it’s not fair!”Anger is silenced while my sorrow lingers,“Protect those with tiny black spots on their fingers.”

Oh, Dear Diabetes, Where do you live?By Marcia SkidmoreYou live in the countless bottles of countless pillswith counted minutes and counted doses.

You live in my fingertips pricked and bruisedpulsing with numbers, predicting the hours to come.

You live on the pages of my journal, the ink a mapscratched out by purpose, making legend my trials.

You live in my life as predator’s eyes,eyes devouring, my hands denying that wished for taste.

You live in each lost footfall, the struggle recognizedmy step numb, my pain felt, my resolve unbroken

You live, ingrained in my day.imbedded, inherent, intense.

You live on my path, on the road I travelI chose to follow the signs and I chose life

You live in my every choice.You live in my every dream.You live in my every thought.

You are like the first cup of coffee in the morning– my life doesn’t continue withoutYou are like the pattern on a zebra’s back– expected but unpredictableYou are like a tattoo– not my skin, but undeniably thereYou are like a rose– the beauty of life that is a lie if we don’t see the thornsYou are the uncommon portrait– it is different but it hangs on my wall every day

From the Diabetes Hands Foundation blog...

HELMSLEY CHARITABLE TRUST GRANTS SUPPORT TO DIABETES HANDS FOUNDATION FOR FOURTH YEAR Funding in 2015 to support major transitions in programs and leadership at Diabetes Hands Foundation BERKELEY, CA: February 18, 2015 – The Leona M. and Harry B. Helmsley Read on! →

Here’s a new way to celebrate Valentines Day: Buy a dozen roses, spare the cost of one (about $5) and donate to IDF’s Life for a Child program. By doing this, you will help children in need of life saving insulin. Those of Read on! →